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be safe. And while we’re dealing with all of this, one person’s wandering free, dealing in his own way.”
    “You think the Prince is in Tomio?” Jack asked.
    “No idea. But he’s the one who sauntered out of here without a real problem.”
    Martin gave a start. “I missed that before. That’s right, one was here.” He nodded to the three escort angels and they sauntered out of the room. “They’re looking for evidence.”
    “Evidence of what?” Jack asked.
    Martin opened his mouth, but I answered faster. “Proof that Tomio visited each of the other victims before he left the hospital. Evidence that he planted the Prince’s trace in them. Or proof that he didn’t.”
    Martin closed his mouth and beamed at me. “You really are an excellent agent, Victoria. And, yes, that’s exactly what they’re looking for.”
    “Black Angel One is watching Tomio,” Jack protested. “Wouldn’t they be able to, I don’t know, tell if he was really the Prince?”
    A thought slunk up and nuzzled the back of my mind. “Yeah, but not if what Amanda honed in on wasn’t actually the real Tomio.”
    Martin looked at me. “Oh dear.”
    “Oh dear?” Jack looked back and forth between me and Martin. “Oh dear what ?”
    I figured I’d beat Martin to this one, too. “Oh dear, we have a doppelgänger on the loose.”

Chapter 18
     
    We all looked at each other. Martin and I exchanged the “we’re so screwed” look. Jack just looked confused. “So, Tomio has a twin?”
    Martin shook his head. “A doppelgänger isn’t a twin. It’s a facsimile.”
    “Always evil,” I added. “They’re also called a fetch. As in, they fetch whatever their master wants, which is usually the soul of the person being duplicated.”
    “But why would the Prince need to fetch Tomio’s soul?” Jack asked. “I mean, the guy’s a drug dealer. If there’s anyone who’s probably already sold his soul to the first bidder, it’d be him.”
    “Maybe,” Martin said mildly. “But men can do much evil before they lose their souls. Many do evil in Yahweh’s name, or the name of another god. And yet, they still remain on our side of the great battle.”
    I let this one run in my mind. “So, let’s say Tomio was like everyone else in that alley -- either a cop or a petty criminal. I mean, it’s not like someone dealing in an Old Downtown alley is exactly livin’ the dream.”
    Jack nodded. “Too true. I ran his file while you were in the hospital -- typical dealer. Rap sheet longer than your tail but nothing anyone outside of the Vice Squad would be interested in.”
    “You’re adapting to this so well.” I tried to keep the sarcasm at bay, but didn’t succeed if Jack’s grin was an indication. “Okay, so let’s assume he still had his soul. Why would he be the one picked?”
    “Perhaps his was the strongest soul,” Martin offered.
    “Maybe he was the easiest mark,” Jack countered.
    I thought about this. Not like a cop, not like an Enforcer. Not even like an undead. I thought about it like a woman. Slimy or the Prince or whatever had made this decision had specific types to pick from -- cops, hookers, bums, junkies, and one dealer. None of these would automatically be considered a pure soul.
    “In my experience,” I said slowly, “strength of soul is something you can never judge from outward appearances.”
    Martin nodded, reached out, took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I could see that Jack noted this, but happily he didn’t ask about it. “Yes, Victoria, you’re correct. What are you thinking?”
    It was a polite thing angels did -- they could read your mind if they were close enough to you physically, but they didn’t unless they felt they had to, for your protection or the protection of others. So, even though he could just take a look-see, Martin didn’t. If you wanted to meet the epitome of self-control, you wanted to meet an angel. Yet another reason everyone loved them.
    “Well, I’m thinking